


Eating the Palm of His Hand

by poisonwithtrash



Category: Show By Rock!! - All Media Types
Genre: Candy Violence, Other, Torture, Vomiting, autocannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonwithtrash/pseuds/poisonwithtrash
Summary: enact violence upon this candy man and make him enjoy it





	Eating the Palm of His Hand

There’s been talk around the town about Gashigashi. It’s well-known fact that he makes the best candy on the market, but supposedly it doesn’t even compare to the candy that his body is made of. They say that if you’re lucky enough to get a taste of him, you won’t be able to eat other candy again. There are even stories of people who got addicted, and couldn’t help but visit him over and over again, begging for just a little bit more. He always concedes, giving them bits and pieces of himself, claiming he has no reason not to when it will all regenerate anyway. But plenty believe that he takes pleasure from all the people at his doorstep desperate for a taste only he can provide.

You’ve heard all of this, but you want to confirm the stories personally. Is Gashigashi really as addictive as they say? Time to find out.

You knock on the door of Gashigashi’s house. It’s right behind his shop, so everyone knows where it is, but you don’t think he’ll have any visitors this late on a weekday. If the stories are true, all you need to do is beg and he’ll crack.

He answers the door with a questioning look, wondering who it could be at this hour. Before he can get in a word, you start pleading.

“Gashigashi! I’m so glad I found you! I had some of your candy and it was so delicious I couldn’t stand it, but my friend said you have something that’s…well, something that’s even better.” You lower your voice and continue, “Something secret? That you only give to people who really want it? Please, I really really want it. I want everything you can give me. I NEED it. Please?”

He stands in the doorway, stunned, before responding, “I don’t, uh, I don’t know what your friend was talking about. I know there’s weird rumors, but try not to listen to them too much, okay? Don’t want everyone getting weird ideas, you know?” He reaches into his pocket and brings out a small bag of konpeitou. “Here, since you came all this way. I’ve got plenty of the stuff, so feel free, it’s on the house.”

You thank him graciously, and apologize for the sudden visit. You put a hand on the bag he offered you, and grab not only the bag but his hand underneath it. Very quickly, you grab his lower arm with your other hand, and bring his wrist down hard as you drive your knee up into it. As expected, the force breaks his hand completely off.

He screams in pain and shock, and tries to back away but you pull him close by the arm. You quickly lift up his detached hand and shove two of his own fingers into his mouth. It’s easy when he’s doing so much screaming, and it quiets him momentarily while he gags, long enough to pull him inside and lock the door.

He reaches up but before he can remove the hand from his mouth, or fight back, you put a firm hand on his remaining arm.

You smile at him, and inform him politely, “It would be wise for someone so…fragile as yourself to listen to what I say.”

He looks at you with fear in his eyes, still coughing and gagging, and puts his hand back down.

“Very good. I didn’t come here to hurt you. I just wanted to see if you’re as good as they say you are. And who better to tell me how the candymaker tastes than the candymaker himself?”

The fear in his face slowly starts to dissipate, replaced by a different emotion. Confusion? Curiosity, perhaps. The finger in his mouth shifts as you see his tongue move hesitantly over them. Then not so hesitantly, he begins sucking on them. His eyes close and he remains there, sucking on his own fingers without a care in the world, and you have some time to watch, amused, until he comes back to his senses with a start.

His eyes snap open and he quickly pulls the hand from his mouth, a few strands of drool still leading back to his mouth. You don’t need to stop him this time. The damage has already been done.

“I-I, uh…” he stammers before looking away. “I taste…pretty good…” he quietly continues.

“Excellent!” you exclaim. “Do you want any more?”

“What? N-no, that’d be weird.”

You respond by plucking the hand he’s holding away from him, and enjoy seeing him spin around in shock and shout “Hey I was gonna-!” before pausing and looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

“Aww, you do want more! For being cute, you can have one.” You hand over one of the fingers. He snatches it up and immediately begins sucking on it again. His eyes close and his tongue makes tiny wet noises as it rolls over the knuckles. When he presses his tongue against the plane of his palm, you can even hear him make small moaning noises. Perhaps the texture is enhancing the flavor. His earlier self-consciousness is seemingly lost in the bliss of his own deliciousness.

When the hand comes close to disintegrating, you catch him licking at his still-attached fingers, and you quickly grab his wrist and pull that hand away from his mouth. He cranes his neck toward his hand and sticks out his tongue to get even a tiny taste, but you hold firm. His breathing is heavy and his tongue lolls. Strands of drool run between his jaws, and one even drips from his tongue down onto the floor. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, instead looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Please…please, it’s so good. I just want a little more. Please just let me have a little more.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have a finger,” you say. His face brightens. “But only if you let me break you and feed it to you.”

There is hesitation in his face, but it doesn’t stop him from slowly nodding and simply saying “Please.”

He looks partially off the side. You smile and grab a finger, jerking it sharply upward and snapping it off. He yelps and hisses at the pain, but if the feeling lingers he doesn’t show it. He only turns back, still breathing heavily, looking up at you expectantly between sneaking glances at the finger.

When you offer the finger to him, he practically lunges for it. He leans on the stump of his other arm as he attacks the finger with his tongue. He is a mess at this point, strands of drool running down his front as he makes wet noises with his mouth. The finger is gone all too soon, but when it’s almost gone you can just barely catch a small crunching sound. It gives you an idea.

“Okay Gashigashi, next you-” you start, but pause, amused, when you realize he isn’t listening. He’s staring at the rest of his hand hungrily, eyeing the tiny cracks running through it from the shock, all the while stealing glances up at you in case you aren’t watching. “Listen up. I’ll let you have all that you want, but first, I want you to bite off your own pieces!”

He doesn’t even blink. A finger immediately plunges into his mouth and gets bitten off at the first knuckle. He hastily bites off a second finger, sending shards flying. He crunches down, devouring all his fingers one after another, but even that isn’t enough. He begins messily biting at his hand, leaving awkward chunks that splinter and fall to the floor. He reaches for them but realizes he has no way to pick them up, instead leaning down and picking them up in his teeth, licking the splinters off the floor. He’s so ravenous that for a moment you even think you may have overdone it.

But he suddenly stops, and his body starts convulsing. He stops chewing and starts gagging. You lean don’t beside him to make sure he’s okay, but only barely end up moving out of the way when the gagging reaches a peak and he vomits up a small pile of pale blue powder.

You watch his body sag as he begins to fall, but you catch him and lay him gently on the floor. As you do, one of his stub arms brushes against the powder, and the detritus shifts rapidly, swirling around before dissipating, leaving behind an intact hand identical to the one you had broken off just earlier.

“Well that solves one problem,” you muse to yourself before picking Gashigashi up to bring him to his bed. It’s nice that he had such a good time, but he clearly runs the risk of working himself into a frenzy. You suppose that he’ll need a caretaker for a while to supervise his indulgences, and you know just the person for the job.


End file.
